


there's something about us

by andreabibiana



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, M/M, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-10-01
Packaged: 2018-02-15 15:08:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2233569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andreabibiana/pseuds/andreabibiana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Albus has a relatively important Law job at the Ministry of Magic. Gellert is currently training at the International Magical Cooperation department. This is a love story, in case you missed the memo, and it will have a happy ending, the odds be darned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a strange alternate universe. It's current year 2014 in the Wizarding World, but the events of the book are ignored so, Harry Potter may or may have not existed yet, who knows? Also, Kingsley is the Minister because I love him. And I'm aging Slughorn quite a lot I think. He's got to be like 15-something years younger than Albus in canon. Here they are the same age, oooops. Nothing in this timeline makes sense, please bear with me and my intention of writing the cutest happiest fluffiest grindeldore fic ever. For the sake of your sanity, read this as a one-shot with possible continuation, I'm never to be trusted with keeping up with WIPs. (I'll try, tho).

There was something about the plum robes that made him feel particularly sophisticated.

Most of the time, it was difficult to remember that he had a relatively important job. His days were filled with mountains of paperwork, his late hours were a nightmare of eye strain due to fine print and fading ink, his working pace typically interrupted by the constant flow of purple notes from friends and colleagues who sorely needed favors or advice. The routine at its worst moments, often made him think of his brother. While he answered some of the notes at the end of the day, trying to sound as polite as possible in paper, or even whispering into a mildly enchanted howler when his hand couldn't be bothered the effort, he remembered Abe's sardonic smile.

"So, you are a glorified nerd", his brother had said once across the table, during a family dinner, after he had explained the majority of his tasks at the government for the benefit of their always-eager-to-know-everything parents. It was unusual for Aberforth to pay attention; for example,  he had spent most of that evening whispering silly things that made Ariana laugh, both of them already tired of hearing yet another tale of success from the favorite son. Still, Albus had to remind himself that his brother, while not being school-smart, had a quick wit about him, and never let slide an opportunity to make fun of Albus. "You got a pretty title, for doin' the same old thing you did back at school, ya know?"

He surely knew, he could perfectly recall his late Hogwarts days, stuck in the library for so long he forgot it was forbidden to stay the night there. Only resting from his tutoring duties for the occasional Gryffindor quidditch match. Indeed, even if it pained him to have to agree with Abe, that's how he felt the grand majority of his time as working adult.

But not on trial days. Not when he was wearing the fancy outfit and felt wrapped in such sense of gravitas. His daily journey through the building, starting at the moment he walked out of the green flames of one of the many fireplaces, became a completely new experience. He could always catch some revering looks thrown his way, and even the common politely mumbled "good morning"s as he passed some colleague by had a special ring to them. It was a ridiculous thought, honestly, but in trial days he could almost swear the crowd of dull cloaks opened to let him pass through. In the end, perhaps it was everything about the robes.

The affair per se wasn't usually as interesting as it sounded. He couldn't deny that a bizarre event occurred from time to time. Hell, it wouldn't even be difficult for him to remember one:  there was always that one wizard who made a whole deal of profit out of enchanting tea sets and cutlery to perform a complete musical number for muggle children whose parents were gullible enough to be fooled into thinking it was a lighting trick. But the fact remained that most cases tended to lean on the boring side. Trading standards infractions, scams, smuggling, false accusations, badly covered misuses of magical items, etc.

That morning the issue was a transportation matter. He had the uncomplicated task of sitting in a bench, looking solemn and paying attention to every detail. Other than that, there was not much for him to do, except for raising a hand when required and standing up when dismissed. Frequently former classmates he kept in touch with asked him if it didn't feel strange to be the young man in an ocean of gray heads and stone-age point of views. Though it was true, he didn't share much with the multitude of wizards and witches with whom he shared the seat, he respected many of them and was in good relations with some. It wasn't that difficult, because they weren't exactly the people he spent most of his working time with anyway. Nearly all of the Wizengamot didn't have any sort of administration duties, and only presented themselves during special occasions, summoned out of retirement by the Minister, pretty much just keeping the seat on the basis of an influential last name or a past career that had already faded. No, the people he worked with, the office people, were, in fact, just a little bit older than him. This was a relief, sure, but also kind of a nightmare sometimes. For instance, when one particular office person with a love for meddling and prying into your personal life, took it to herself to find you true love and kept on trying to set you up with one of her single friends. God bless her, Joanna, a fellow archivist, was a responsible smart woman as well as being his favorite person at the department, but she had a tendency to drag him into forced romantic situations and other fleeting fancies, such as weirdly conceptual concerts or muggle nightclub's costume parties. He humored her mostly out of fondness or boredom, but sometimes he deeply regretted his inability to say "no" to her.

He didn't have any more need for the uniform when the trial was over, but he still got to keep it on all the way back to his office where he could change, so there were a few more moments of sophistication left on his day. Or so he thought as he stepped into the crowded lift. When it reached level 6, it occurred to him that he felt like having something sweet and warm in his stomach, as he only had tea and a couple of biscuits before leaving home in the early morning. So he stepped out in level 5, with the idea of getting a buttery pastry from a shop he knew he could find at the end of the corridor. It was a small place, with large windows that simulated the view to a sunlit meadow, and in combination with its courtyard-like furniture and many pots of greens gave it a relaxed well illuminated environment that was preferred by the younger employees of the building.

He wasn't quite there yet, a few offices still in the way, when he saw him. It wasn't as if he knew every single person at the Ministry. He didn't, although he tried to, really hard, even if he was terrible at faces. No, it wasn't that. It was more like the feeling that he would know this one, that he wouldn't forget a face like that. Hell, the person he was looking at wasn't an entire human being he could ever forget. Seated by one of the few tables in the shop, surrounded by others dismissed entirely by his brain as if they hadn't been there in the first place. A young man, dressed in a bold, fitting scarlet robe, impeccably ironed and clean, wild curls falling over his shoulders, a smile hanging in his lips as he moved them in what Albus supposed was conversation. He had no idea what made him stop and stare, his attention fully focused in the individual in question, as he definitely wouldn't with most passing strangers, recording a full mental description for his memory to archive. Blond, straight nose, high cheekbones, clear eyes, not so tall even if hard to tell due to his sitting position, sharp dresser if judging by the current ensemble, having coffee black and nothing else, etc. There was no justifiable reason for his sudden interest, really, but he quickly rationalized that the man looks out of place, too bright, too young, too... something. Content with such explanation, he stayed in the  perplexed, unmoving, until a blurry unidentified object crashed into his nose.

He muffled a surprise noise at the flying memo that had angrily awakened him from his musings. As if things hadn't been strange enough so far, he was being silently scolded by a flying piece of paper for standing in the middle of a hallway. So he remembered the original purpose of his walk, the part where he wanted something to eat. After allowing a moment of self-awareness and carefully checking around to make sure no one had been looking at him, he continued his way to the shop. Out of instinct, even if it made no sense, he planned mentally the  the best trajectory to avoid coming too close to the stranger, suddenly wishing he wasn't wearing the highly outstanding Wizengamot outfit along with the special hat, damn it. He felt a strange urge to forget about the food altogether and get away, but his more rational side wasn't going to let that happen. After he somehow managed to find his way to the counter, to finally achieve the goal of obtaining something freshly baked and run back to the office, that was when Elphias appeared.

"Fancy seeing you here", he heard before a friendly hand found its way to his shoulder, and how long had his friend been around, really? He can only hope not much. "Those fit you really well, you know? It's your colour."

Yes, I know, he wanted to say, but only smiled instead, because this was his best friend, after all. Since Elphias didn't comment on anything else but the clothes, he felt slightly calmer.

"Aren't you going to order anything?", asked the woman behind the counter, with a raised eyebrow and a bored look.

"Sorry, yes." he conceded before looking at the assorted desserts showing in the display. "Can I have a... chocolatine? Do you want anything?" he turned to his friend.

"I'll have the same thing, thank you," decided Elphias quickly. "So, busy morning?"

Albus shrugged.

"A little. Small thing, really. Just ten of us."

The woman delivered the order as one, and Albus took too long to reaction, so Elphias paid, as per usual.

"Keep the change", said his friend warmly as he took the brown bag. "Do you want to sit down?", he asked as they walked away, which prompted Albus to be very aware of the fact that just minutes ago he was trying to run away as far as possible and not to look under any circumstance  at the blond individual seating and chatting a few tables away.

"No, got to dash, really," he said as politely as he could, walking a little too fast up to the exit of the shop, keeping his eyes in a straight line in direction of the lift, of safety.

"Oh right, let me walk you then." Elphias offered and, oh god, were they in school again, Albus wondered. He felt a little bit like he was being wooed. He knew Elphias meant nothing, except to be nice. A little too much, perhaps.

Still, they caught up with friendly chat on the way to level 2. Elphias told him about a new pamphlet he was directing on the safe practices of transportation for the modern wizarding family and Albus made a mental note of asking for one later to send to his parents.

Once they arrived to Albus' office, more of a cubicle really, he waited for his pastry to be delivered, which was taking long enough because Elphias was excitedly talking about his prospected holidays on the Baltics and how much he wished Albus could make a whole in his agenda (which he can't possibly even think of, no matter how magnificent the idea sounds, and that makes him a little bitter). They were greeted by sweet Joanna, who winked their way as she passed by holding a bunch of papers and with her glasses almost falling on the tip of her nose.

Eventually Elphias remembered he also had work to do, so he offered the bag to Albus so he could finally have his meal. Albus waved Elphias away as placed the pastry on a napkin on his desk, around which there was already a significant collection of dancing purple memos. He ignored them, for the time being, sitting down and letting his body relax and breathing out a deep sigh. He hadn't even noticed how much strained his movements had been up until then. Closing his eyes as he leaned back into his chair, he took a bit of his, thankfully still warm enough, chocolatine and smiled.

Joanna coughed, and he opened his eyes to see her leaning in the edge of the cubicle.

"Interrupting something?", she mocked, light hearted, looking at him with a wicked smile. "So what with the Doge? Still trying to get a piece of you?"

Albus rolled his eyes as he started catching the flying memos and pinning them down to the desk, one by one. They've had that conversation a million times. That ship had sailed a long time ago.

"I got this for you, " she continued, as apparently making fun of him wasn't the only reason she was there. She placed a number of the latest Witch Weekly next to his pastry. "Page 6. And I left some tea for you there", she pointed to the filing cabinet behind him, the only surface that wasn't cluttered with papers and quills. "You are going to need it, " she finished as she left to her own desk.

As if he hadn't enough things in his mind. Still, he reached out to grab the cup and opened the magazine. Luckily enough, he hadn't drank any of the tea before, otherwise he would have choked. There was a picture of him, out in the Diagon Alley, taken god knows when, and a small blurb of text next to it.

«In our number nine, everyone's favorite quirky fashionable Wizengamot youngster , who remains mysteriously single as he was during all his outstanding run as Hogwart's golden boy. His high achievements in every academic field he's pursued aren't the only reason why he would be a good catch. It is said his ambitions are also high settled, and considering his well known friendship with none other than Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt, well, who knows? Maybe the witch who wins his heart may consider herself the next Mrs. Minister.»

He apparently made it to the top ten eligible bachelors of the year. Damn that Rita Skeeter.

* * *

Morning after, Albus found himself wandering into the shop at level 5. It had nothing to do with the blond man, it just happened to occur to him that the pastry was really good. And the man wasn't there anyway, the place was deserted. Not that Albus expected him to be there, why would he, really? It was a different day, even if it was exactly the same time and place. Slightly disappointed, even if unwilling to accept it, he walked up to the counter and placed his order. With the paper bag clasped in hand, he went back to his daily routine, waving away any thought on clear eyes and lovely smiles.

Quickly forgetting himself over the work, morning passed and afternoon arrived. Strangely enough, Joanna asked him to accompany her down to the worker's dining hall to get lunch. She usually went on her own, later bringing back something for him. He didn't think much of it, and was happily dragged away from a particularly frustrating task, if only to clear his mind a bit. Arm in arm, they went up to the first floor, walked to the second corridor and passed through the high gate on the right.

Even when food was not being served, the dining hall was crowded and noisy, the ultimate place to gossip around inside the Ministry. As they made their way through many tables, he raised a hand from time to time to acknowledge greetings. He was precisely looking around to see from where a "How is everything going, Mr Dumbledore?" had come from, when he saw him (again). In the corner of the hall, looking extremely dashing all in black, same smile as the day before. He must have stopped breathing or something, because his head felt light as Joanna dragged him around and made him sit down across her. There was a tuna sandwich in front of him, and he didn't remember having picked it at all.

To his relief, Joanna didn't seem to notice anything strange in his behaviour, and continued to chat up to him about how the food used to be better in her first year. Relief lasted very shortly, though, as he noticed he wasn't' the only one acting abnormally. Joanna too looked very distracted, her hair was down (when had she untangled from the bun, he didn't notice), she kept tucking it behind her ears and flattening it with her hand as she threw casual glances away from their table. Glances thrown exactly at the same spot Albus was trying very hard not to look at. And he felt like a goddamn fool.

* * *

The third day, Albus felt incredibly ridiculous over the whole affair. Having seeing his own behaviour mirrored on Joanna was the tipping point. Had he been really so carried away over a pretty face? Was he so shallow? It wasn't the kind of thing to take over his mind, it wasn't like him at all. And while those thoughts pushed against the idea,  he still went back to the shop at level 5.

Since he was already there, he bought the usual, and decided to sit down for a while, to enjoy the very pleasant surroundings. Since the shop wasn't really a closed space, rather cornered at the end of the hallway, it had no real doors. He distractedly bit into the buttery bread as he stared along the corridor. He stared without seeing, that was it. Long time passed before he realized what he was looking at without seeing. Some of the offices in his direct view had clear glass walls, and there was a particularly animated one. An elder employee whom he had talked to before but whose name slipped his mind was giving a sort of presentation to a group of young people taking notes cluttered around a table. There was conversation, comments, hands raised, nodding, those sort of things. There was also a blond head, he could clearly see. The young man who couldn't leave his mind was there too, dressed in black again, with a light emerald scarf wrapped loosely over his shoulders. Albus could see the blond man with the sort-of-students crowd, animated by the conversation. He didn't feel so nervous that time, given that there was a lot of distance between them and  a wall, keeping him at a safe distance. So he continued to watch him quite calmly. Until, of course, everything went to hell.

He saw him coming, his doom. Had it been anyone else approaching, it would have been nothing. He was just sitting there, having a meal. But it wasn't just anyone. A particular someone with a taste for gossip and a love for teasing, who knew him far too well, too fucking well to realize that he was not the type of person to sit down to eat on his own during work hours.

"Checking the goods, are we?" said Horace, with a cheeky smile. He knew he had lost from the moment he was discovered there, but he had to at least try to salvage a little of his dignity, pretending he didn't understand the question. "A espresso would be wonderful, Jenny", the man continued, directing a look to the woman on the counter and sitting down next to him. "I'll also have this delightful thing my friend here seems to not be eating."

"How is everything around Relations?", asked Albus, ignoring the last comment and trying his best at casual.

"Boring as hell, I would rather join you in your contemplation."

Albus won't say a thing, unwilling to sign his own demise.

"I know you aren't as well informed as some of us, but you got to know you aren't the only one who's noticed him. And he's still fresh news, so everyone's keeping an eye or two. Thanks, honey." said Horace once the woman of the shop delivered his coffee. To his credit, Jenny only looked mildly annoyed at the term. "I've got all the dirt, come on, ask me"

And Albus stayed silent, decidedly not looking neither at his friend or at the corridor.

"Oh right, whatever. Then let me tell you everything. So, he's obviously Inter Coo, right? It's a new programme they have, sort of a transfer thing, that bunch there, they come from over the world, diplomats-in-training. And pretty boy there, well, everyone's falling head over heels for him. Well, we are all falling hard, I'm afraid he's right up my alley, you know?"

Hell, if Albus didn't know the kind of guys Horace liked. In fact, he felt he knew way too much about that. First-hand information. Seen things he probably shouldn't have.

"But, let me be honest, I didn't expect you to jump in the bandwagon, you know? I had to see it to believe, and so I did as of now, and I wanted to be a supportive friend, to let you know you aren't alone in this", Horace ended, putting a hand to Albus's shoulder as if to physically demonstrate his argument.

There was no point in denying anything anymore, so Albus took a bite of his chocolatine as Horace sipped from his coffee.

"There's something about him. He is... different." Albus started, already aware he sounded like a complete cliché.

"Apart from the fact that he's drop-dead gorgeous?" said Horace, raising an eyebrow.

"Everyone with eyes could see that." answered Albus slightly irritated. And I'm not everyone, the vain thought occurred to him, but he didn't say it. "It's something else."

Biting his lip, he looked over to the place where the man in question was talking about something behind the glass wall.

He could see Horace roll his eyes at him.

"Call it what you want, mate."

"How do you know all that about him?" dared to ask Albus, once he had already gotten used to the same of it all.

"It's called talking to people, you should try it. I was presented to him, and obviously was very interested in knowing more. He's not shy, you know? Maybe you could talk to him."

"Now, that's funny", Albus blurted and sounded unexpectedly bitter.

"Also, want to know something I've heard?" added his friend with a sly smile. "He goes both ways."

Albus could feel his face heating, stupidly.

"Don't tell me, you also asked him that?"

"No. But apparently he's been around, if you know what I mean".

Horace seemed to be satisfied with the last sentence, took a last sip from his cup and started with the pastry.

Albus really wished he didn't know what he meant.

Eventually, he had to go back to work and not at all think about the ways the blond man could have "been around", since those weren't thoughts to be had in the workplace at the afternoon. He politely declined Joanna's second lunch invitation as he had gotten quite behind his work due the morning's adventure. Also, he didn't really feel like going through the mental images Horace had left him with and he knew the moment he stepped away from his work he was going to be unable of thinking about anything else. Evening soon arrived, and with it, the time to go back home to his books and a lonely night.

* * *

He didn't go around the shop the next day. It was getting out of control, so he decided not to push it anymore. He had managed to convince himself that it was natural to be attracted to someone in the pure basis of looks, but still, he wasn't going to let himself be overpowered by such a thing. So he holed himself up in his cubicle, seemingly grumpier than usual, so Joanna didn't even attempt to ask him to lunch.

After she had gone, he picked up some boxes he was supposed to take to the archive, and enchanted them to float and follow him down the hallway. Since most of workers were probably having lunch, it was the perfect time to move the boxes without disturbing people. He had started humming when he heard someone calling out, and as he carelessly turned around it took everything in him not to jump. It was him, gorgeous clear eyes, so close that he could see just how deep and lovely they were. That was also the moment when the boxes fell, rolling around, scattering papers in a disarranged fashion. Damn it, he had spent at least an hour organizing them.

"I'm so sorry," he mumbled to no one in particular, because he really was sorry, he was behaving like a schoolboy, letting go of simple levitation spells out of surprise. And they said he was the brightest mind of his generation. Sure thing.

The blond man was still there, while Albus was making the papers rise from the floor and get inside the boxes again. But the man didn't laugh or anything. He just walked up to him, careful to not step on anything. Once the boxes are filled, Albus defeatedly sent them on the way back to the office, for reorganization.

"I'm sorry, did I scare you? I just wanted to know where the office of Mrs Rumiska was.", said the blond man, with a thick layer of an accent and a deep voice.

He prepared to answer, he knew were the office was, he could tell him, but instead: "Accent.", he blurted out, instantly biting his tongue. Up until that moment, he hadn't heard the man talk and it resonated within him how much he had been missing. There was a musical laughter that also seemed to come from the other man.

"Yes, I can't hide it well, I'm afraid."

"I'm sorry. I'm being rude, it just surprised me.", he continued saying stupid things, and so he decided he better get to the point. "Mrs Rumiska is the second to last door at the left," he explained, pointing to the way one was supposed to follow. Relieved that he managed to give the instruction, he expected the guy to thank him and leave.

"I've seen you around", he heard him say instead. Albus felt his heart racing and his hands shaking, and he couldn't stop looking at that face, even more beautiful when closer to him.

"Really?", he managed to say.

"Yeah, I mean, it's hard not to notice."

What the hell was he talking about, Albus wondered, and a long silence passed between them. He couldn't possibly be asked to think clearly, as he was standing next to this gorgeous guy and his state of mind divided between wanting to run away as fast as possible and wanting to stay close to him forever.  

"The hair.", the man added, to clarify, and it took Albus too long to understand that he meant his hair was hard not to notice, of bloody course! So he laughed, nervousness getting the best of him, urging him to do something, whatever, to release the tension. It helped a bit.

"Gellert", said then other man, extending a hand. Albus doubted a little before taking it as firmly as he could, and giving his own name back.

After that, things happened way too fast; the man - Gellert - was gone to find Mrs Rumiska and Albus had to go back to sort papers again, and probably to also have a mental breakdown. It was only his name, he repeated in his mind, all the way back into the office. He only gave me his name, there was no reason at all to freak out, he told himself. It wasn't as if they had snogged or anything, and - yes, he was now thinking about that - how old is he, for real? Yet he couldn't stop his mind from roaming. He had seen him close, he had heard his voice, he had touched his skin; hell, he had even sensed a particular fragrance around him... He was only missing the taste, and that thought was enough to keep him distracted for the rest of the day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i didn't have the books at hand to reference so i hope i didn't get much too wrong, if not, well ~ALTERNATIVE TIMELINE~. also, my gellert voice is messy, i'm so sorry, i love y'all, this is gonna get better next time, it's a promise <3.

There was a library in level 10. The guide he had been handed on his first day stated so. He wasn't expecting anything grand, yet it was worth trying. He had early on the day decided to skip the night outing, but he knew the residual energy would keep him up, and he would better stand the boredom of a sleepless night with a mediocre reading than with none at all. The working day was done and everyone else was preparing to leave, so he went down in the lift on his own. He wasn't tired, not exactly. Yet he couldn't explain in other words why he'd rather stay in that day. So, tired was easier to say. He had, at least, reason to be. Even if they'd only been in London for a week, to say they had experienced some eventful days would barely make justice. No one could blame them, really. They were, after all, still very young and willing to overdo things. It was part of the plan, all of it. Yes: the lectures, the work groups, the practices, the field visits; that was the core of the programme. But the learning wouldn't be complete without the long walks through the rainy city, the stories and the laughter, the sightseeing, the making out with strangers at nightclubs... It was all part of the so-called cultural immersion, and proof of their potential, their disposition to assimilate the new environment. If it got a little bit out of hand, well; as long as they could still manage the professional side, even with a blinding hangover, it would be fine. For the first weeks, at least. Eventually, the novelty would wear off. Now, the fact that the novelty was already wearing off for him, that was something he wouldn't rather think about at the moment.

"Level 8", he heard the voice announce. He was supposed to get off in level 9, he remembered. Only the stairs reached level 10.

He hadn't gone that far down the building yet. The lowest levels hadn't been included in the introduction tour, for not being relevant enough. Level 9 looked slightly grim, not to say desolated. He was aware that it was supposed to look uninviting. The dark walls bore no interest in pretending the room wasn't deep underground, and the poor illumination casted shadows everywhere. He felt like a schoolboy running around the forbidden dungeons on the Durmstrang castle. That made him smile. There was something that felt forbidden indeed. He knew that. The door, at the end of the corridor, and the secrets behind, were out of bounds. He hadn't pushed much for information, but he sure would try later on. It was on his plans. For the moment, the secrecy kept his interest alive.

The library was almost empty when he arrived. There was someone on the front desk, a woman with thick round glasses and curly hair, who didn't even look up from her newspaper when he stepped in. A welcome change, if he was to be honest. It wasn't that he didn't liked people to look at him. It was just a little tiring after a while.

He wasn't looking for anything in particular, so he crossed directly to the shelves, not caring much for sections or catalogues. The shelves were tall, at least 5 meters, he guessed, and very cramped, making the room look smaller than it really was. The corridors between them couldn't possibly hold two persons walking side by side, and continued on for so long he struggled to see the end of them. There were some ladders for reaching the highest places that, if he was to be asked, didn't look very trustworthy. The tips of his index finger slid over the spines of dust-covered volumes as he walked through corridor after corridor, destiny uncertain.

Old titles, foreign languages, strong energies. Perhaps he had been mistaken when he thought he wouldn't find a good thing down there. After half an hour of vaguely looking around, he had found a solid tome on the writings of Beedle the Bard, that dated from the 17th century, a true jewel that wouldn't be amiss in a private collection. So he would been a fool not to grasp the chance of studying it, even if it required a specialized dictionary and some hard work. Definitively good enough for a lazy night.

When he was heading back to the desk, he caught a glimpse of colour in one of the corridor. Looking again, he found Level 2 redhead - Albus, that was it - struggling with a heavy volume while up in one of those feeble ladders. Poor guy, he held the big book on one hand while he tried to push away the rest of them that threatened with falling over his head. He took some pity and decided to walk up to him.

He tried to make his presence obvious before talking, not wanting to make things worse by scaring him.

"Please, let me help."

"It's alrig- oh, thank you." Albus seemed uneasy, but let Gellert take the book from his hand anyway. "I guess I didn't think it through."

While Albus fought the books back into their place and got off the ladder, Gellert examined the volume at hand, a medieval treatise on alchemy, with original Arabic text in one side of the page and heavily annotated translation in the other.

"I thought you worked at Law. I assumed, yes."

"I do, I work there."

Albus, safely back on the floor, cleaned his glasses and adjusted them on before giving him an apologetic smile. Gellert gave the book back.

"Very unusual topic for a pleasure read."

"It's not like that. I mean, it is for pleasure. But I'm also working on a research project, it's, sort of independent."

Gellert nodded, careful not too look too surprised. It didn't seem like an everyday thing, office worker by day and alchemist by night. Still, he would rather not look unworldly, so he shifted his surprise to the more obvious target.

"That book is... extraordinary. Why is it here? I'm amazed, I have to be honest."

Laughter, even that collected and mature type he had, made Albus look younger and far less severe than he had been that past afternoon at Level 2. Perhaps it was the surroundings, he seemed much more at ease in the dark corridor of the library than in the middle of busy offices.

"The collection is quite interesting. Surprising, I know."

"Surprising, yes. Unexpected."

Albus seemed to meditate upon something and then stepped closer to him. Gellert hadn't noticed how tall he was. The man was leaning down a bit to see him eye to eye.

"OK, since you seem to know your books very well, I'll tell you a secret about the library, can you keep it? There's a really old clause, in the registry, that whenever a wizard dies without a clear will on their personal library, the books automatically come here for safe-keeping. And well, most of the time, the family doesn't notice, or care enough to come to pick them up. So after a while, they enter the catalogue. Hence, the diversity of it."

What to say to that, really, Gellert found himself strangely pleased by the revelation.

"That is a little scary."

"It's terrifying!", agreed Albus, standing straight again and smiling confidently.

"Then, this library is a type of, cemetery or memorial? We walk with the dead." Gellert had to smile too. His companion nodded.

"The books even carry little plaques at the back that say whom they used to belong to. Of course, not all of them come here that way. Some are donations, and there's also old documents that serve better as historic references."

"How do you know about this?"

Albus shrugged. "It's my job to know the laws.", he said, but looked proud of it anyway.

"And why must I keep secret?"

"Well... Even if it's slightly disturbing, I guess if someone doesn't care enough for their books to put them in their will, and no one comes to claim them, this is a better place for them. Better than the garbage anyway. I fear it's a rather old tradition, and it may be found, incorrect, if well-known."

"Evil genius, you."

They were both silent then, the moment that just passed filling them with a friendly recognition of each other. But silent never stayed long in Gellert's mind, and the conversation had lifted his mood from the land of tedium.

"What will happen to your books when you die?"

"I've never thought about it before..."

The shadow of doubt in the man's frown brought him back to earth. Gellert's senses, before invigorated, were as quickly disheartened by the response. Such things easily affecting him, he hated it. Still, he had been impolite and too eager.

"Forgive me, it was a very personal question. I must go now."

"Yeah, me too. Are you taking that with you?"

Albus pointed to the small book he held as they both walked to the desk by the entrance. He nodded. "Night reading."

The man seemed to want to say something but was interrupted by the librarian. "Home delivery, Mr Dumbledore?" asked the witch, as Albus placed the thick volume in front of her.

"If you would be so kind, I don't think I want to be carrying it all the way".

Albus looked back at him while the woman handled the book.

"You'll find it very satisfying, I think. If the subject is to your interest."

"Yes, I'm very interested. I'm glad I decided to come here. It seems a good place to explore."

Albus nodded and smiled and then politely excused himself before leaving. After that, the librarian approached him and while the paperwork of the loan was getting done, Gellert couldn't shake off the certain idea that things had been left unsaid.

* * *

He had a pleasant enough night, deciphering his precious book acquisition until past midnight. He was even awake, fueled by coffee and excitement, to happily greet his roommates when they arrived from the night outing. Of course, he slept a few hours, but he knew his refreshment that morning was of the intellectual type. He was back in full game during the first lecture, and then the discussion was completely lead by his voice. Everyone seemed pleased with him, and so no one bothered him with questions of his previous behaviour.

It was during the break before the second lecture that he remembered Albus Dumbledore. The law worker slash secret alchemist. He remembered him with fondness, because everything good in his mood that day he connected to the library. But he also remembered him with an interest he couldn't properly place. Interests, to him, weren't few, but the actions he would take for them were only two; he could either dismiss them if not too important, or follow on them if he was in the right mood. And Gellert wasn't anything if not go-getting, so given that he already was in the mood, there was little to stop him.

He approached the lecturer of the morning, a plump affable middle aged wizard who was, at the moment, reading the paper on the corner of the debate room.

"I hope I wasn't too aggressive today".

Mr Hazelthorn looked up warily from his fresh edition of the Daily Prophet. Seeing him, he dropped the hesitance and smiled as he folded the paper.

"Nonsense! You were marvelous, Mr Grindelwald. It's a shame I cannot keep you here forever, I think the Ministry could make some use of your bold attitude. As I told all of you before, I'm afraid diplomacy is sometimes affected by excessive manners in our part."

Gellert took the unspoken invitation to sit down next to him in the couch.

"Thank you, sir. I do try my best to learn from what you tell us."

"Do be careful, flattery will get you places in here." Mr Hazelthorn said as he raised both eyebrows and looked at him accusatory.

"I was wondering, a few days ago, there were a bunch of people wearing purple ceremonial robes." He had noticed Albus Dumbledore before Level 2, he hadn't been lying. Not only because of the hair, but also because of the very outstanding outfit, that had stayed in his memory. He had, to his own credit, intended to ask what was the whole thing about before, but the chance had never came up.

"Oh, you mean the Wizengamot."

"That's high court, isn't it? The ultimate jury." He had heard about it, although only in passing conversation.

"Yes, the wisest, oldest, most pompous wizards and witches of Britain." he confirmed and then punctuated with a snort.

"You say oldest, but I saw a young man."

"They usually have a young representative, a prodigious minor."

"No, he wasn't a student. He works here."

"Then you're talking about Albus Dumbledore, his highness himself. Yes, he's surprisingly young for the Wizengamot, although there has been precedence. He's too young and too smart for his own good, I guess. No, don't listen too much to me, he's a fine young man."

"What do you mean with too smart?"

"Well. He has many friends in here, for someone so young. Some of them he even acquainted during his school times. And of course, now he works here, it would only take a few strings to be pulled. He could easily be junior assistant next year and then, who knows how long it would take him to grasp the big office for himself."

"As Minister?" Gellert tried to follow the old man's rant and hoped he wasn't understanding it wrong.

The wizard nodded. "It doesn't sound right to me, call me old-fashioned. But, why is it we're talking about this?"

At last, he was impatient, but Gellert had already heard enough to satisfy his curiosity. It had been, in fact, more than he had expected. "I was just curious about the robes." He smiled as he stood up and left Mr Hazelthorn to brew his frustrated thoughts.

* * *

When the time for lunch was coming, he saw Albus Dumbledore through the glass wall of the office. He was all by himself in the coffee shop at the end of the hallway. Fate could only be ignored for too long, and he was no fool to do so. It took him two seconds to decide on seeing him. Another full minute to come up with an excuse.

They were in the middle of a debate on comparative trading policies, but the energy was dying out and he offered to buy everyone a round of hot beverages to reanimate them a bit. They all took gladly to his offer, and no one thought it strange, he was in such a good mood, after all. Even the supervisor accepted the treat.

Orders taken, he slid out of the room. With a smile on his face and decision in his mind, he casually strolled to the counter, careful not to look around before time, and placed the order. Once the excuse was done for, he turned around and found Albus' gaze.

"Hi." Gellert waved, before walking to sit across him on the table, asking permission non-verbally.

"Morning", said Albus, not meeting his eyes. Gellert had the faint idea that the man was nervous, he had a light blush on his face and his fingers where fiddling with a napkin. It wasn't strange for Gellert to catch people looking at him. He was very used to it, really. But he wasn't used to them feeling embarrassed about it. He fount it very endearing.

"How are you?" he asked to break the heavy mood.

"Fine. Good. Great." Albus shook his head slightly as if dismissing himself and then, finally, looked at him. "Did you enjoy your night reading?"

Gellert smiled at the thought.

"Yes, it was fantastic. Not much new information, of course. But it's always better to read from sources that were closer in time, isn't it?" he asked, remembering the book Albus himself had chosen.

The man nodded, but said no more. Gellert was getting worried his presence wasn't appreciated, when Albus continued.

"I didn't know Beedle was read abroad. I mean, I thought you would have your own writers, wherever it is you are from..."

"Austria. In fact, my parents live in Vienna. But Beedle is fairly known everywhere as far as I know. Not as much read as others, but heard of. I have British family on my mother's side, so he was a lot more prominent in my childhood compared to other Austrian kids."

"Oh, that explains a lot, actually. Well, you have very good English. I mean... Am I being rude, again?" Albus bit his lower lip, and looked apologetic.

"No! Thank you. It's nice to know, of all the languages I'm supposed to be fluent in, that at least I'm good at one."

"Are you good with languages?"

"God, I'm terrible. But it is mandatory to know at least three languages, besides your mother tongue, for entering the programme." Gellert then summarized the status of his stay at the Ministry to Albus, who turned out to be a very receptive listener. He was telling him about his rooming situation when the woman at the counter called him out to grab his order.

"I have to go back know." he said, trying his best to sound sorry. "Thank you for the chat."

Dashing to the counter and picking up the two trails, he decided it was best luck not to look back to check upon his work. But he could feel he was being successful. He himself didn't understand what he was trying to achieve. But he was sure talking to Albus Dumbledore had been a wise decision. He just had a good feeling about it, and he rarely was mistaken with such things. The man seemed to like him, anyway.

As he entered the office with the cardboard trays, one on each hand, he found Mr Hazelthorn's questioning eyes. Gellert hadn't noticed he had came back.

"So. Only curious about the robes?" said the man, teasing.

Gellert shrugged as he passed him by. He couldn't find it in himself to feel ashamed. So, what was wrong in having an interest, really. It was a person, yes, it was a little strange. But it was better than the boredom that never ended.


	3. Chapter 3

Naturally, the rumor of his meeting with Gellert Grindelwald had started spreading within the hour. Not that Albus would know, because he was a proper Ministry employee, with tasks to perform that didn't include talking about other people's lives. Still, when the talking involved you, it was difficult to avoid hearing about it for too long.

"Does anyone even do any actual work here, at all?" he had bitterly asked Horace that same evening. His friend had passed by the office on his way to whatever excuse he made up, and had put him to a thorough questioning regarding the incident.

There was nothing to be done about it, people were going to talk. However, the next few days, Albus found he had also little time to care about gossip. Not only because he was a generally busy person, but also, because the presence of Gellert Grindelwald in his life more than made up for the side effects. They had been running into each other more and more often. Sometimes they would pass by the other in a hallway and Gellert would smile at him and wave, making his heart jump  and his legs wobble. Other times, they would find themselves riding the lift together and have a small chat about the weather or whatever else. Albus would spot him in a crowd across the dining hall, which he had been visiting despite himself, and just seeing him would make his day better.

Truth to be told, he was completely smitten. He wouldn't say it out loud, or go around making it known, but he had accepted it as an undeniable fact. In a way, he had convinced himself that acceptance was the first step in the way of getting over it. And so, if he was willing to embrace his ridiculous crush, it would eventually go away; with enough time, the novelty of those beautiful captivating eyes and of that deep warm voice would also fade, and his life would go back to normal. It was the way those things worked, as far as he knew.

A week had passed already, and he was just fine. That morning, Joanna had handed him a cup of tea as soon as he got in and he was feeling very calm. He started on his first transcript of the day, humming softly to himself, a popular muggle tune he had heard played on his muggle neighbor's radio. An hour or so had passed when someone gently knocked on the not-door of his cubicle.

Elphias had a warm smile that always made him think of long nights spent studying next to the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room.

"Are you up for a walk this evening?"

"I think I'll be free around six, is that okay?" he answered after mentally checking his schedule. Elphias was leaving on a long trip the day after, so he would have probably cancelled anything he had anyway.

"I'll come to pick you up then."

* * *

They told him not to wander along Knockturn Alley on his own, so they were essentially pushing him to do it. It was a grim lane, but he had seen worse. He looked over some displays, under the suspicious gazes of various salesmen and women. Nothing too exciting or remarkable. In fact, all the dark paraphernalia hanging around seemed to him rather unauthentic. Perhaps the good stuff was hiding in the musty back rooms, gathering dust, and you had to say the right words to get to it. Still, the idea didn't appeal much to him at the moment. He was just having a quick stroll to stretch his legs, really. Gellert had stayed behind to write his parents a letter, and then had decided not to join the group again. Perhaps he would do some more notes on his newest library loan.

The growing light at the end of the street announced him that he was closer to the cheerier and much better illuminated ways of the Diagon Alley. The day had given way to the night not too long ago, but in the gloomy London weather it was hard to tell when the sunset started anyway.

He was thinking of stopping by a clothing store before heading back to the flat. The weather was getting colder and he needed a new coat. He was also considering getting a raincoat, despite of the fact that actually wearing it would be unfashionable. Looking around for apparel on displays, that's how he found him. Red hair. Through the window of a bookstore — Flourish and Blotts, said the letters painted on the glass — he caught sight of Albus Dumbledore. The man was scanning the back cover of a paperback with the sort of bored stance he carried himself with. Not thinking for long, he stepped inside the store.

"Is it always going to be like this? You, me and books." he said as a greeting. Albus didn't drop anything nor did he seem troubled or embarrassed for a change.

"Hey, are you looking for something?" His voice was soft, less formal than usual.

"Do you work here?" he tried at joking.

Albus shook his head, containing a smile.

"No. It's just my initial reaction, to be aggressively helpful. Government training, I guess."

Gellert doubted all government employees were actually as nice, but he kept it to himself.

"Actually, I was just passing by and I saw you here." he admitted. "So I wanted to say hello..." His eyes had started roaming around the volumes stacked neatly around them. "Ja, look!". A name captured his attention. He reached out to pull out one copy of a title that took an entire shelf's length. He turned it over so Albus could see it too. "Remember, I told you I had English family? This book. My aunt wrote it."

"Bathilda Bagshot is your aunt?" The question sounded surprised.

"Great-aunt. Do you know her?"

"Every kid in school has to read her, actually. But I do know her. Personally, I mean. She's a friend of the family. Very close friend. We were neighbors. Well, my parents still are, they live next door to her."

"Really? I went up to see her a few weeks ago. Godric's Hollow, is it? I must have seen your family's home then. Before I knew you. How... curious." he settled for that vague word, in the absence of a better one.  

Albus had an amused look as he nodded, but Gellert... He had a strange feeling, a gut reaction, to the new information. As if he wanted to say things he hadn't thought about yet. He looked down at the book as he put it back in the shelf, trying to collect his thoughts from the scattered mess they were in.

"It's done! We can go now." A cheerful voice, too close, made him look up and the moment faded. A young man with a polished smile had came up to where they stood. He was talking to Albus.

"Forgive me, I didn't know you were accompanied." he said out of politeness, mostly. The stranger had regarded him with a frown that lasted just a second, but enough for Gellert to notice.

Albus was ever the definition of good manners as he did the proper introductions. "This is Elphias Doge, he's a friend from school. He works in Information. Elphias, this is Gellert Grindelwald."

"Nice to meet you. I've heard so much about you."

A charged comment, Gellert thought.

"Really? Well, I'm going to go now." The mood had broken anyway, he would talk to Albus later. He hadn't as much as moved a finger when the stranger stopped him.

"No, please. I'm the one who's leaving."

"But—" Albus started but was immediately cut off.

"I've got some last minute packing to do, don't worry. Just... Can I have a word? I'll borrow him a second only, I promise."

"Yes, of course." He wasn't sure what was going on but, what could he say? Albus gave him an apologetic look before walking away from him. Gellert tried not to look to interested, not to gaze to obviously at the couple mumbling out of his hearing range. He didn't have to wait much.

"I hope I wasn't a bother."

"It's alright."

Albus shrugged but his eyes weren't agreeing. Gellert didn't like that.

"I was heading back to the flat, actually."

"Oh, then I guess—".

"Would you mind keeping me company? I'm going to be alone. That is, if you aren't planning on brewing a philosopher's stone tonight."

* * *

"Whatever you've heard about him, it isn't true." he had said quickly when they were out of earshot. Albus hadn't even considered that Elphias was probably aware of everything that was being said. How couldn't he?

"I don't care." he had said in a curt way that made it seem like a lie. Still, he didn't look angry. Not really. He looked troubled. And disappointed, in a paternal way, which was a terrible word to describe someone you had kind of dated and Albus wasn't going to dwell on that thought for much. "Albus, listen. It was years ago. I'm not resentful; it didn't work out, everything's fine. Do me a favor: if you want to be with someone, don't stop because of me. And don't dare denying anything. I'm your best friend, I know you better than that. Have fun while I'm away, will you? You deserve it." Did he truly?

The flat Gellert and his two roommates lived in was part of a mostly unused Ministry building that once, had functioned as residence for the Minister himself. Of course, that had been a century ago, and bureaucracy was completely to blame for the waste of such state during that a long period. There had been attempts at restoration, but nothing had come to it until then. Albus had seen a permit related to it rolling around early in the year.

The place was scarcely furnished, which made it look even more spacious. There was an improvised kitchen space. Gellert had offered him coffee and Albus had not the rudeness to tell him he hated it.

"I would offer something else, but we don't spend enough time here to have food, not even crackers."

Gellert placed the cup and, thank goodness, a sugar jar with a spoon in what had been a desk when they arrived but was for the moment working as a coffee table. A bunch of papers and books had been stacked on top of an ottoman to avoid accidents, and so they could both sit next to each other in the sofa. Albus had never in his life felt so conscious of the reduced size of a piece of furniture.

"Have you been working for long in the Ministry?" asked Gellert after tasting a sip from his cup.

Albus hoped adding three teaspoons of sugar would be enough to make the beverage tolerable without looking like a simpleton.

"Ever since I got out from school."

"That long?"

"Well, it wasn't right away. I was hoping for... I'm going to sound like a pompous idiot, but I was hoping for a better offer." A self-deprecating smiled escaped him.

"Like?"

Albus sighed. He shouldn't had brought it up in the first place.

"Before graduating, I went to a alchemy congress in Cairo, and I thought I had done very well. Actually, I won a prize and everything. I talked to all the right people. I guess, they must have felt I was too young. Never heard back from them."

"What about the research?"

"When I said it was independent, I meant it. It's not like anyone's expecting me to publish the next big thing. You may know, it is a highly practical field, and I don't have near enough time or equipment to make it work. So I guess I just do it because I'm too stubborn to let go."

Gellert was shaking his head.

"I think it's great. It shows determination. And good theory is better mediocre praxis."

"Is it? Someone ought to tell this country."

"Well, as long as you plan to get to the praxis in the end, of course."

"I guess I do. In some vague level." he said with a shrug. The idea was in his mind, but very much at the back, and he preferred to keep it there for a while.

"And what about Law? You don't like it?"

"I like many things. Law was my second choice, but it was a choice."

"I've heard that you are the youngest full-time member of the Wizengamot in the last 50 years."

"Where did you hear that?" Albus could feel a smug smile in his face and he tried to hide it by taking a sip of the most disgusting thing he had ever drunk. "I'm not proud of it, I may have had some help to get the place." he admitted.

Gellert wasn't shocked. "Isn't that how it works always?"

"Elphias' father is the head advisor, and he put my name in with a very good recommendation."

"Why didn't the father put the name of his son in too?"

"He didn't want to, Elphias didn't want that. He was the one to come up with the plan. He said they needed some fresh brains in there. He's Mr Doge's only son, of course he got his way."

"I think you're probably better than all of them anyway."

How could he know, Albus wondered. They had only shared a handful of conversations. He took the compliment kindly anyway, used as he was to empty flattery. Although, it didn't really feel as empty in Gellert's case.

"I don't like to brag, but, despite what the title suggests, some of there weren't really selected for their wits."

That made Gellert laugh, and Albus remembered he was completely in love with him, in the most pathetic of ways. He had been fine up until then, but one look, just one look too long, and he was lost. He averted his gaze, pretending to be interested in his surroundings. The ottoman was right next to him and Albus noticed the handwriting. It was German. Gellert had told him one of his flatmates was Portuguese and the other Russian.

"Are these yours?" he asked anyway, picking up the parchment.

"Yes. I've been working my way through that book." he said pointing to the sole occupant of a lonely shelf in the wall. "Do you understand?"

"Very little. Brethren." The word sparked his memory. He remembered their library meeting, and their talk on the Bard. "Is it about the Tale of the Three?"

"Good. Yes."

"That is not the same book." he pointed out. The volume Gellert had borrowed that time was bound in red. The one currently in his shelf was black leather. Gellert stood up and picked it up to bring it closer.

"No, I went back and found this much rarer thing. It's handwritten! Accounts of sightings of the Gifts of Death. Many are quite obviously retellings or fantasies to narrate for a few pieces of gold. But overall a very interesting read."

It looked more of a personal journal, than a book. It was small and slim. Gellert held it open and he extended a hand.

"May I?"

"It's not even mine."

He took it carefully. There was an unspeakable reverence to the act. He turned it back to look at the colophon. It was stamped and sealed as having entered the Ministry in the 18th century. It had been copied at least in the 16th, for a personal collection. Perhaps for an eccentric bibliophile. He touched the paper; magically preserved, of course, but it was already weary when the charm was first used.

"It's authentic."

Gellert raised an eyebrow.

"I noticed."

"I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to discredit you. I've never seen anything like this in my life." He looked properly at the test. The calligraphy wasn't standard and the language itself was convoluted. He was trained in paleography, sure, but even in his case, it wouldn't be something he would read just for a flying fancy. That and the meticulous note-taking implied deep study. "Is this a project of yours?"

"A vague theory that I may want to put to praxis later." said Gellert much more casually than his work implied. He may have as well written a full thesis on it. Yet what struck Albus as unusual was the confidence in which Gellert spoke.

"There aren't many willing to believe in fairy tales out there. Not nowadays."

"I guess that makes us special."

Albus had never liked that word. And yet he had used it too. Gellert was sort of special, he had noticed with just one glance. Gellert thought Albus was better than all of them, just because they talked over books in a lonely library. There were agreements underneath their words, every time they met.

Was he special? In his youth, he had experienced curiosity over the so called Gifts of Death. He learned enough to know that it would be foolish to dismiss them as a fantasy. Yet he wouldn't have been so earnest in expressing his thoughts. Much less talk about the possibility of possessing them.

"I didn't say I believed" he noted.

"I think you did."

Gellert smiled and the room was filled with light. Because Albus hadn't say a thing but he had said everything too, somehow.

They talked and laughed about things that didn't matter much except they meant everything, for a time that wasn't counted but that went very fast. Whispering, surrounded by dying candlelight, that's how they were found by Gellert's flatmates.

"I guess that's my cue to leave", said Albus after the introductions. "Please, I'll let myself out. Good night."

 

* * *

 

"Satsu, have you heard?"

The young woman had just sat down next to them and was flicking the pages of a magazine.

"Heard what?" she asked without looking up.

"Gellert brought a guy home last night!"

Again. It was the third time Daniel intercepted someone during a break to tell the story. Gellert was amused by his flatmate's insistence of making a big deal of it. He had done much more scandalous things. Right in their faces. Granted, what you did when you were drunk was easier to forgive.

"I've told you, it wasn't that late when I invited him, we didn't mean to take that long." he made his case, without trying really hard.

"Long? What were you doing that took 'long'?"

Satsu was grinning but he shrugged the question away. Oh, the thing about being a multicultural group conformed of people who were barely not teenagers and didn't share a mother tongue was that words were always up for confusing misinterpretations that could only end tragically.

"We were just talking."

"I've heard that from you." she pointed. "Right before you stuck your tongue inside some Spaniard's mouth."

"If I remember correctly, we had been talking up to that moment." That had been one time. Well, twice that same day. It only counted as one.

"So, did you guys found him in the right time?"

"Crisis averted! They were in the dark, who knows what Gellert would have done to the poor guy if we didn't get there."

"Is it serious, Gellert? Mari's going to be upset."

She would get over it, Gellert thought.

"Who was him, anyway?" asked Gav, who was only vaguely curious about the whole affair.

"I've seen him here." said Daniel.

"Was it the funny man we always see in the dining?"

"No, he seemed serious." intervened Gav. "A tall man with red hair."

"He's one of those purple dinosaurs! I remember him from the coffee shop at the end of the hallway."

Satsu feigned an offended expression.

"Oh god, is he old? Gellert, you shouldn't do that."

"No, he's not old. He's our age, I think."

While Satsu and Daniel continued exchanging their opinions over his romantic life, Gellert stole her magazine and stood up with the intention to cross the room and sit quietly away from them in the opposite end of the long debate table. Of course, it was then he noticed that Mr Hazelthorn had arrived early for the next lecture. He wondered for how long he had been sitting there, reading his Daily Prophet.

"Good morning".

Mr Hazelthorn just nodded so Gellert supposed that was it. He seated down next to him and opened the magazine.

"So, Grindelwald," started Mr Hazelthorn, so quiet Gellert almost thought he was imagining things. " I take it you're still courting Mr. Future Minister? I've heard it before, that he was of that... inclination."

Gellert wasn't prone to anger. He considered he had a good deal of tolerance to annoyance in him. But the way the older man had said the last word, dragging it like that, enraged him instantly.

"That's none of your business," he retorted curtly, almost spitting the words. "...sir". The addition almost made it worst.

The man looked at him intensely before speaking again.

"Careful, kid. I like you. Don't put me to test."

Sure thing. He didn't remember the last time he had felt like that, like he could burn something just by looking at it. Without explaining anything to anyone, he skipped the lecture and decided to cool himself down in the dim atmosphere of the library.

He didn't feel like reading, so he spent his time "walking among the dead". Albus had been so captivating that time, he remembered. The gravity of his words had pulled him so easily. It felt natural to him. He thought of the way Albus looked at him. "It's authentic", he had said the day before, after he examined the book at the flat in complete awe. Gellert noticed.

 

* * *

 

Friday morning, Albus arrived to his cubicle to find a note already in his desk. It wasn't the usual purple piece of paper, but a emerald card with words scribbled in shimmery silver ink.

"Don't forget about tonight. — H. S."

Tonight?, he repeated mentally and it quickly dawned on him. Horace's birthday party. He was supposed to be there. Of course, his friend had predicted he would forget about it. Luckily, he hadn't got any plans for the night. Well, he usually didn't anyway. Yeah, he could make it, he just had to pick something nice from his closet. Horace's parties were usually fun, even if on the extravagant side. And he hadn't really been out in a long time. Plus, Horace would never let him live in peace if he missed it. In part because of their friendship, in part because he was one of the favorite trophies in his display window, to put it bluntly. Horace loved to parade him around his acquaintances as if he was a crown jewel. Albus didn't particularly liked that, but it tended to lead him into the path of some very interesting people. So in the end, it was favorable for both of them.

Too bad Elphias wasn't around, he thought as he started to shuffle through the files he needed to revise before the afternoon. He settled on the longest one, and started skimming over the page. When Albus took Elphias with him, Horace felt discouraged to attempt at pairing him with someone. That was one aspect of those parties he could say he didn't enjoy at all. It was hard enough having Joanna as a matchmaker, Horace Slughorn was in a completely different level of annoying when it came to pushing him into relationships. Perhaps he could invite Joanna to come along with him. She wasn't very fond of Horace, but since Albus always went with whatever plan she came up with, maybe she would be willing to do him a favor in return. Except, thinking it through, perhaps Joanna wasn't exactly the best candidate to keep Horace at bay, with the whole being a woman thing. And she could as well leave him alone if she found someone suitable in the sea of potential dates. So in the end, he would have to brave it on his own. Unless...

The thought was almost shy, a small sprout growing in the back of his head. There was someone who could possibly like to go with him. Someone with a gift with people and a wild curious mind, smart and charming, interested in everything. And he was intended to be a diplomat; it was always good for someone with a career like that to meet all sorts of important people. Gellert might be interested, yes. It wasn't a ridiculous idea, not at all. The young man seemed to enjoy his company, and after that night at his apartment, they were certainly on friendly grounds with each other. But. Was it enough? Were they— "friendly" enough for this sort of thing?

It wasn't a big deal, his rational side repeated. It was just a party. And he had said it himself, Gellert might be interested. What could be wrong in just inviting someone to a party? Gellert was a young man in a foreign country, sure he would want to go out and have fun, wouldn't he?

It wasn't a terrible idea, he concluded.

He crossed a few lines over the first page of the stack, and wrote a side note in small calligraphy. A few pages later, an idea began to bother him. The party was that same night. What if he never ran into Gellert and then couldn't tell him about it? Or what if he took so long that Gellert made other plans? What if he already had other plans? How was he supposed to concentrate on his work with all those questions making their way into his mind?

He dropped the quill with a sigh. He was already feeling he was going to need a grand amount of tea to make it through the day. But first things first. He stood up and made his way to Level 6.

He felt clumsy, standing outside the glass wall of InterCoo's meeting room number 5. He had already managed to signal Gellert from outside and he was waiting for him to make excuses to his colleagues. Albus had the sudden realization that he was wearing a plain gray robe when he saw Gellert approach, looking wonderful in his tight fitting scarlet garment. Why was he always the one in the boring clothes?

"Hey. I hope I didn't interrupt something important." he started. Gellert dismissed the thought with a hand and prompted him to go on. He took a deep breath without thinking. "It's just. I just was reminded, that tonight, well, a friend of mine is having a celebration, it's his birthday, and, well I know it's sort of very sudden, but I literally just remembered today. I would totally understand if you have anything to do or just don't fancy spending much time with strangers, but, you see, my friend knows many people, like, practically everyone worth knowing here, from every field, and they are all coming, so I thought maybe you would be interested in coming, well... with me. It's just a casual thing, you know, drinks and talking, all of that."

When he found nothing else to say, he noticed his palms were sweaty. He bit his lip and hoped the pleading look in his eyes wasn't too noticeable nor terribly pathetic. For a moment, Gellert just regarded him as if he was considering it. But since the answer was taking too long, Albus started to worry he had been speaking too fast or unclearly and he should really have been much more considerate with his manner of speech, since the other man wasn't a native English speaker. He was about to voice his worries when Gellert finally said something.

"Is it a date?"

Albus froze. Was he just seeing things or Gellert was actually frowning? God, he must have sounded like an idiot. And Gellert, has probably had a reasonable bunch of idiots throwing themselves at him, what was he thinking? He should have known he was going to sound like a creep, he should have made himself clearer.

"Oh god, no," he started, trying some damage control. "I didn't mean it like that, I'm sorry if I said something wrong, I just thought you may be interested in meeting people and—"

"Calm down. I was just checking."

The frown was gone but there was something else. Albus couldn't possibly believe it, he had to be reading him wrong. But Gellert looked— disappointed? It was just a change in his voice and a slight downcast glance, really. His most sensible side told him to ignore it. But he needed to ask, he needed to know, and he was not a coward. He was a Gryffindor, for Merlin's sake.

"Would you — would you like that? If — if I said it was a date — Would you like me to ask you?" The words stumbled out of his mouth. Totally a Gryffindor.

Gellert gave him a wicked smile.

"Are you asking?"

He was playing. He was testing him. He was daring him to back off. Albus loved it. He could as well take it, go back to his office, pretend they hadn't talked, forget about him until he went away. But he wasn't a coward.

"Yes." he said, steady at last. Hopeful.

Gellert's smile softened.

"Sure. Just say where and when and I'll be there."


End file.
